


Muse

by moonbands



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: College AU, Fluff, Luke Hemmings mentioned, M/M, No Smut, Photographer!Calum, University AU, artist!Ashton, but it's just when Ashton draws Calum, idk it's a ton of fluff and a lot of emotions, they get naked tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbands/pseuds/moonbands
Summary: Calum gets assigned a project to take photos of a stranger and get to know them to be able to tell their story. Calum chooses Ashton, the angel-like painter that never has his clothes free from paint.





	

Calum trudges down the sidewalk away from his previous lecture, the sunshine and bright green grass doing nothing to brighten his mood. Don't get him wrong, he loves photography, but the class itself is a hassle. He hates getting assigned work that he has no interest in taking pictures of like half a tub of sour cream or a dead bug in the middle of someone's feet. He wants to present passion in his photos, something he can't do with a deadline.

His new assignment is actually more up his ally; he loves photographing people. It's just the fact that he has to photograph a complete stranger and "get to know them" and "show their story" as if Calum isn't a busy college student and can't do literally anything else besides meet a random person who will take up even more time of his life.

Calum is just about to trip over the wooden start of a bridge crossing a man-made lake when he pauses and takes a step back. He looks at the boy not far away, sitting in a chair in front of an easel facing the water. The boy's curly dark blonde hair is glowing gold underneath the patches of leaves from the tree above him, his small, square glasses glinting against the sunlight. His white shirt and blue denim jeans are covered in splotches of different colored paint, but his hands and wrists are only colored different shades of gray and green.

Before Calum even registers what he's doing, he's unzipping his camera bag and uncapping the lens, raising the device up to his eye. He hears a 'click' and lowers it to his chest before putting it back up to his eye.

"You know, it's illegal to take a picture of someone without their consent," Calum hears, and he curses as he leaves his finger on the shutter for too long, a few more clicks sounding than there were supposed to be. He looks up to the boy who only glances at him.

"S--sorry. You just looked so pretty--I mean, uh, the sun is just right, and I wanted to get it on camera," Calum explains pathetically.

The boy's giggle sounds like birds chirping, and Calum wonders if he's an actual angel. "I'm not mad. Can I see it?" The boy says all this without looking up, his paintbrush dabbing at the canvas. 

As Calum makes his way closer, he can see the intricate details of the grass and the less intricate details of the water. The boy is scooping up watery paint from his portrayal of the river, putting it somewhere else on the river. He repeats the process a few more times as Calum presses a few buttons for the first picture of the boy to pop up on his camera.

"Here," Calum announces the picture after a few minutes of the boy not looking over. He glances at it, then his painting, then the camera, then picks up a dribble of paint and smears it over the canvas again. "What are you doing?" Calum asks, slightly confused.

That's when the boy finally looks up at him, and Calum first notices that his eyes behind the glasses match the color of his hair, glowing gold in the sunlight. He quickly turns back to his painting. "Canvas is expensive, and I'm not having my painting ruined by some cheap acrylic paint. I have to catch any drops before they leak into my grass."

"It's very beautiful," Calum comments, which it is, even with the unfinished river. Calum watches as the boy's cheeks tinge pink.

"Thank you," he replies quietly. Calum watches him fix the droplets a few more times as a silence, well, as much of a silence there can be with a river trickling in front of them, passes over them. "Your picture is pretty," the boy compliments.

"Thank you," Calum copies. Then, he has a good idea. Well, maybe a good idea. "I have a project for one of my classes," he starts, turning his camera back into photographing mode. "I have to take pictures of a stranger and get to know them to tell their story. Can I get to know you?"

The boy doesn't even look up from his painting, just a small smile grows on his cheeks. "Take a picture of me," he answers.

Calum moves behind the easel, the boy glancing at him momentarily as if he took the spot he was using to paint the river. If Calum did, the boy doesn't say anything. Calum holds up his camera to his eye, snapping a picture just as the boy reaches forward to pick up more paint from the canvas, his gaze focused.

"I'm Ashton, by the way," the boy introduces himself.

"I'm Calum. Nice to meet you."

\--

Calum shifts nervously with his camera, the bag sitting lightly against his hip bone. He's waiting for Ashton to show up so that he can take some pictures, but he's come to think that maybe asking him for coffee wasn't the best idea considering he doesn't even like coffee, and it's actually where he's taken his last two dates to. But then Ashton is coming around the corner with his glasses off and a clean shirt and paint-splattered jeans, and, okay, this is really happening.

Calum takes a picture of Ashton right as he recognizes Calum, and a wide smile envelopes his face. Ashton waits for Calum to put the camera down before pulling Calum into a hug, surprising him. "You waited for me outside?" Ashton asks after releasing Calum, opening the door of the coffee shop for Calum to walk through. Calum tries not to gag at the inevitable romance-like series of events.

After each of them order their coffee, they sit by the a window in the corner of the shop: not private, but not too public either. As Ashton takes a sip of his, Calum sets his camera on the table before he does the same. He tries to mask the look of disgust, he really does, but it's clear as Ashton starts giggling that he's caught. "Do you not like coffee?" Ashton asks.

"Hate it, actually," Calum answers, his fingers fidgeting against his cup.

"I would hate it too if I got black coffee," Ashton replies, pushing his drink towards Calum. "Try mine." And, honestly, Calum doesn't understand how Ashton is so comfortable with a complete stranger, but he guesses he should just go with the flow.

He takes a sip of Ashton's drink, tasting caramel and something warm like pumpkin except not quite, licking the whipped cream off his top lip. He still tastes the punch of coffee, but it is very much duller after the other ingredients. Calum thinks that maybe, with time, he could grow to like this kind of coffee. "What is this?"

"Caramel and ginger. They don't actually have ginger here, but I made Luke stock some because I hate pumpkin spice lattes and apparently you can't get it without the spice, but I love ginger."

"Who's Luke?" Calum asks, pushing the drink back over the Ashton's side of the table.

"The barista," Ashton answers, nodding to the tall blonde boy on the other side of the counter. "He's one of my best friends."

Ashton pushes his cup back to Calum and takes Calum's own cup. He brings it to his lips, and Calum has just enough time to grab his camera and take a picture as Ashton swallows the drink, his face only somewhat contorted. "Oh, God," Ashton grimaces. "It's been a while since I've had black coffee. I bet I look fucking horrible in that picture."

Calum pulls it up on the camera screen and hands it over to Ashton, who looks even more horrified. "I'm ugly!"

Calum takes his camera back defensively. "You're beautiful," Calum argues, heat pooling at his cheeks once he realizes what he's said. Calum discreetly takes another picture as Ashton looks down at the coffee, a bashful smile on his face.

"Thank you," Ashton says, lifting the coffee up to his lips again.

"So," Calum changes the subject, fiddling with his camera strap. "What would you be doing if you weren't here with me?" he asks.

"Isn't that the exact opposite of what straight white boys ask girls way out of their league?" Ashton jokes, amusement splayed over his face.

"Oh my god," Calum says in realization. "You're absolutely right." Calum laughs, Ashton following suit. "But seriously, let me get to know you. What do you do in a normal day?"

"Actually, I'd be at the gym, but I wasn't sure a sweaty boy would make attractive photos," Ashton explains.

"It doesn't matter," Calum counters. "I'm supposed to get to know the real you."

Ashton looks up at Calum, his gaze quizzing. "Are you saying you have to keep taking unattractive pictures of me?"

"If it helps, I'll work out with you," Calum offers, drinking Ashton's coffee.

Ashton looks like he's thinking about it, and then he nods. "Alright, guess two sweaty boys is better than one." And it's totally the coffee that's making Calum's stomach flip.

\--

As promised, Calum meets Ashton at the gym later that day after their classes. It's already dark outside, but that means less people are in the gym. Calum's camera hangs heavily in a different strap around his neck.

It starts off them doing the same exercises. They start off with stretches, Ashton even asking him to help him with a few. Calum hasn't even started doing physical labor yet and he is already very warm as he leans over Ashton, his hands on either side of Ashton's shoulders as his knee holds Ashton's left knee to the right side of his body, twisting his torso against the floor. Calum can feel a red blush against his neck, and he remembers he needs to get some sun so that it's not as noticeable, if noticeable at all.

Ashton grunts as they switch sides, Calum pressing Ashton's right knee to his left side. Ashton asks Calum to hold his knee up to his chest, and Calum doesn't think his heart can go any faster. Calum uses his hands this time, but Ashton scolds him.

"That's not stretching me. Try laying your torso on my shin." Calum does as he asks, moving in between Ashton's legs and back into his original position, hands by Ashton's shoulders. Ashton groans as the new stretch kicks in, his eyes shutting. Calum is thankful for this as he realizes he can feel Ashton's breath across his face.

Calum turns his head to the side while bringing up Ashton's other knee, pressing his torso against his shin. He can feel Ashton's eyes on him, but he doesn't look. "Okay," Ashton whispers finally.

Calum gets up off of Ashton and helps him off the floor. They head over to the stair steps, taking turns counting each other's steps. Ashton's hair mats across his forehead, a sweat spot prickling at his lower back covered by a gray shirt. Calum can only see it because it's one of the few parts of the shirt that isn't covered in red paint.

They decide it's time for dumbbells, and Ashton saddles up beneath the bar, telling Calum how much weight to put on. He only lets Ashton put on as much weight as Calum can lift, and Ashton promises they'll get Calum to the same weight as Ashton. Calum smiles softly at the idea that this is more than a one time thing.

If Ashton was sweating while stepping on stairs, he was much sweatier under dumbbells. Calum licked his lips as he watched Ashton's arms strain, helping him lift on the tougher ones at the very end. The back of Ashton's shirt was soaked, and Calum couldn't stop himself from reaching for his camera as Ashton placed the bar back on the holder. He took a profile of Ashton turned sideways, his damp hair hanging over his forehead as he caught his breath. He leans forward, his posture slumping. Click.

Ashton looks up at Calum, a small smile on his face when he sees the camera. "Your turn," he announces, standing from the bench to let Calum take his place.

Calum lays down underneath the bar, finding Ashton's face looking down at him. Calum slips the camera strap from around his neck. "Can you take this?" he asks Ashton, holding his camera delicately. Ashton nods, taking special care as he slips the strap around his own neck, the camera resting against his chest.

Calum squares up, his hands gripping the bar gently. There's a moment of panic before he lifts, letting it fall almost to his chest before he's raising it again. He does fewer reps than Ashton, but that's understandable with how ripped Ashton's arms are. When Calum's done, he feels his own sweat making his t-shirt cling to his back. He runs a hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat as he stands up.

"I'm going to head back to my apartment because I have an early class tomorrow," Ashton informs Calum, handing him back his camera gently. "We should definitely do this again," he adds on.

Calum can't help the smile that grows on his face. "I'd like that."

\--

The next time Calum sees Ashton, it's unscheduled. Calum happens to do his yearly walkthrough of the library on the same day Ashton is studying for a test the next day. Calum almost doesn't notice him, too distracted by trying to find the right resources for his eight page research paper that at least one professor assigns him every year.

Calum just happens to glance over at the tables to find familiar curly brown hair, the familiar face hidden as Ashton looks down intently at a textbook. Calum finds it's a habit to reach for his camera now, and he snaps a picture of Ashton from his exact spot, the background of colorful books blurred behind Ashton.

Ashton hears the click, and Calum snaps another picture as he looks up, and another as a small smile grows on his face. That's when Calum notices the glasses he'd seen only once before, the frames finally darkening with Ashton facing towards him.

Calum realizes Ashton is finally wearing a clean piece of clothing until he gets closer and sees the dark paint spots of blue blending in on the cuffs of his blue button up shirt. Calum has grown to like that Ashton always seems to be covered in paint. He thinks it's kind of cute.

Calum takes a picture of Ashton's hands, his thumb white as he holds on tightly to keep the page of his textbook from moving, his other hand lightly on top of the page, his finger pointing to a single word. "Hi," Ashton giggles quietly.

"Hi," Calum greets, pulling out the chair across from Ashton. "What are you studying for?"

"My composition class. I didn't know they were going to make me read in Composition considering it's a writing class and all, but I guess life can't be too kind."

"You don't like reading?" Calum asks, formulating an idea of how Ashton was supposed to be in his mind.

"Oh, I love reading. I just don't like reading about writing. The library is my favorite place."

Calum can't hide the look on his face, and he thinks Ashton doesn't notice until his face grows in confusion.

"What?" Ashton asks.

"I hate reading. I'd rather be reading that textbook you have there," Calum answers, nodding to the still open book. Ashton chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I bet I could find you a book you'd really like," Ashton challenges. "I have a bookcase of my favorites at my place."

"Speaking of that. If I'm really going to get to know you, shouldn't I see where you live?" Calum suggests, clicking off his camera for now.

Ashton looks at Calum, his face expressionless, before he nods slightly. "Okay, sure."

\--

Calum takes a picture of Ashton's hands again on the way up to his apartment. When he had buzzed in, Ashton immediately told him through the intercom that he'd ride with him up. Now, they were in the elevator, Ashton's empty hands nervously rubbing over the backs and palms. Click. The door dings open, and Ashton guides Calum through the hallway, opening an unlocked door slowly.

"Wait," Calum stops Ashton as he's about to go in. Calum steps forward to swing the door all the way, placing his hands on Ashton's shoulders to shift him to the left of the doorway, positioning him as if he's letting Calum in.

Ashton's eyes don't meet the camera, looking to the side, his shoulders hunched forward, his hands together, his feet turned inwards. Calum can tell how nervous Ashton is about showing him his apartment without even having to look at the picture. Click. Calum can see inside the apartment, and there are paintings hung everywhere.

Ashton takes in a breath as Calum steps in, shutting the door behind the two of them. The floor crinkles underneath Calum's shoes, and he realizes it's covered in plastic. "I would take your shoes off so you don't trail paint into the hallway," Ashton says beside him.

Calum does as he's told, slipping his socks off as well. He immediately looks at the closest painting, finding a pretty young girl staring back at him. She's not smiling, and her eyes are piercing, her cheekbones prominent over her round face. Her brown hair cascades nicely over her shoulders, which are hunched despite the confidence in her face.

"That's my sister," Ashton tells him, turning around to turn on a sink after putting some ice in a cup. He hands one cup to Calum, another in his other hand.

"Thank you." Calum turns back to the painting, noticing a slight resemblance. "She's beautiful." Calum knows he doesn't mean it necessarily that way, knows he means both her and the painting are beautiful. Ashton picks up on it too, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

Calum looks around the open apartment, noticing a hundred different faces staring back at him. They're all precise, all gorgeous, all emotional and bare. Calum can understand why Ashton feels nervous about showing him this.

There are, of course, a few paintings that aren't of people. Calum recognizes a finished piece of the river canvas from when he first met Ashton, and he smiles to himself. It's pretty, too, capturing the light and airiness of that day.

The only part of the apartment that doesn't have paintings strewn against it is the wall where Ashton's bed is, unmade with a few glass cups on the floor next to it. Calum can relate. The bookshelf that Ashton promised is at the foot of the bed, at the brink of fullness with all the books carefully stacked inside.

"You're so talented," Calum compliments, his voice breathless. He feels his own soul is painted on these canvases, and he has to try hard not to feel vulnerable.

"Thank you," Ashton whispers. He's hiding behind his cup, which doesn't do much since both the glass and the water are clear. As Calum reaches his camera up again, Ashton doesn't look once more. Calum understands. Click.

"Do you use other kinds of mediums?" Calum asks, joining Ashton on his bed once he pats it invitingly. Calum eyes the desk next to the bed, looking at the sketch pads littered across it.

"Yeah. I use watercolors, oils, acrylics, pastels, charcoal. Mostly I draw with a pencil, though. I like painting the most." Ashton picks up a paintbrush from one of the glasses by his bed, brushing it against his shirt.

"Can I see your drawings?" Calum inquires, his camera forgotten on the bed in between the two of them.

Ashton picks up one of the books and starts handing it to Calum before he stops himself. "These are art journals. I'm letting you know the real me, okay? Once you see them, you'll know what I mean," Ashton's voice quivers as he talks. He hands over the book, watching as Calum eyes the front cover.

Ashton takes in a shaky breath that Calum can hear when he opens it up, immediately feeling the emotion shouting at him from the page. It's not that he can even see anything on the page, just splotches of black and red harshly stroked across the paper. It's almost too scary to look at.

He turns the page, finding different shades of purple, a few streaks of pink. This page is calm, pretty even. Something like the vulnerability Ashton is showing right now. It's filled with swirls and dots, flowing with no clear purpose. Just something to calm Ashton down.

Then come the sketches. A lot of them are of hands, always the same size and proportions. Calum thinks maybe he drew his own hands. They're not detailed, just basically outlines, but they're still pretty.

Some of the sketches are random. Calum recognizes a few of them, like maybe this one is the eye of a cat, and maybe this one is the leg of a bird, and this one is the nose of a dog. Some of them, he doesn't know what they are.

After the sketches come more paintings, none as harsh or emotional as the first two. Calum thinks they might be filler pages, something that Ashton can just get his hands working with. With every page turn, they become more detailed.

The next sketch is of a pair of eyes. Just two eyes, a reasonable distance apart, curving with the face of the undefined person. They're dark eyes, don't require much detail. Calum thinks they look sort of familiar, but he has no idea where they'd come from.

Ashton leans over Calum's shoulder, turning the page by himself, his cheeks a dark shade of pink. The next sketch are of hands, slightly different than the previous ones. And the next page is a painting again, and Calum thinks it didn't have time to dry properly because the paint has smeared on the back of the hands page. It's like the second painting, different shades of purple and pink.

"Okay," Ashton says quietly, gently taking the book away from Calum. He sets it on the desk again, turning back to face the boy on his bed.

"Can I take a picture of you?" Calum asks, watching as the light from the window behind him shines over Ashton's face, his features soft and scared, almost. Ashton's knees are pulled to his chest, loose enough to look inviting, but his face shows that he's been cracked open.

"Haven't you been?" Ashton asks back, his voice quiet.

"Not like how you are now," Calum answers, reaching for his camera anyways. He lifts it to his eye, his heart pounding as Ashton looks at the camera this time, his hair almost falling into his eyes. He looks dangerous, like he could snap, like he could fall apart.

\--

"Do you want to stay over at my house tonight?" Calum asks abruptly as he places the dumbbells back where they were supposed to be. "I mean, we can play a video game or watch a movie or both. Also my mom just sent me a bottle of wine for some weird reason, so we can pop that open."

Ashton bats his eyelashes slowly, then a fond smile appears on his face. "Okay."

\--

Calum waits patiently for the knock on his door, and when he hears it, he jumps up. He greets Ashton warmly, embracing him in a hug, his glasses hitting Calum's shoulder, before taking his overnight bag and putting it on his bed. He shuts and locks the door, turning around to find Ashton standing awkwardly next to his couch.

"Make yourself comfortable," Calum insists. "I'll go get some snacks and open the wine. You can look through my movies and video games and see what you want to do."

Calum leaves Ashton at that, spinning around to hide himself in the kitchen alcove, busying himself with pouring small amounts of wine into little glasses because he doesn't have wine glasses. He picks up an already popped bag of popcorn and another bag of chips before he's making his way back to the couch, careful not to drop anything.

Calum looks up to find Ashton nowhere near his DVD collection and standing over his bed, head tilted back to look at the wall his bed is pushed up against. It's cluttered with printed off pictures taped somewhat messily to the wall, some of them frayed and worn. Calum walks up to Ashton, picking up his camera from the bed. Ashton turns to glance at him before looking back at the wall.

"Did you take these?" he wonders, leaning forward to look at a small picture at eye height. He feels a smile grow at the moment captured where a girl that looked like Calum had her head back with laughter, hanging on to a man that looked at her amusedly.

"Yep," Calum answers simply. His eyes graze over the pictures, his heart rate speeding up. He feels like how Ashton would have felt showing Calum his paintings. These are all the moments most precious to him, some with people he had met for the first time, others with people he had known his whole life. People were his muse, his memories.

Calum takes a picture of Ashton looking at his photos. Click. And then Ashton turns to Calum, smiling softly, something making Calum's heart flutter in his chest. Click.

"They're beautiful, Calum," Ashton says sincerely. Calum hums in response, looking down at his camera as he turns it off.

Ashton turns away from the photo wall, making his way back to the DVD shelf. He leans down, looking at the wide movie selection. Calum turns his camera on again, snapping a picture just as Ashton's mouth moves open, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he peers over them. Click. Ashton pulls out a movie box, checking to see if there is a DVD inside.

Calum sits down on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He opens the DVD player by remote for Ashton, and Ashton puts the disc in before closing it, turning off the lights, and joining Calum on the couch. Calum leans over to pull the blanket over Ashton too, and Ashton giggles slightly.

Calum sets the bag of popcorn in his lap, picking up his glass of wine to sip at. Ashton watches him carefully as the movie starts, reaching into the bag of popcorn and pulling some out to put in his mouth.

And, of course, Calum should have known that Ashton would've picked a romantic comedy to watch together. Ashton's just lucky that Calum only buys movies he likes.

\--

The movie ends a couple hours later, and some time during, Ashton had gotten comfortable enough to fall asleep on Calum's shoulder. It was really starting to ache, but Calum would rather not wake him. Calum picked up his camera, turning it so the lens was faced towards him. Click. The movie played in the background as he looks at the picture. He managed to get all of Ashton's face in and none of Calum's. Good.

It wasn't long before Ashton moved against him, his head lifting up and sleepy eyes searching Calum's apartment. "Oh, I missed the end of the movie," Ashton says, sounding a little disappointed.

"We can rewind it," Calum suggests, but Ashton shakes his head as he stretches.

"I'd just fall asleep again." Ashton yawns and turns to look at Calum, a small smile on his face when Calum meets his gaze.

"Do you want my bed, then?" Calum offers, shrugging the blanket over his shoulders.

"Only if you're not sleeping on the couch," Ashton immediately replies, copying Calum and wrapping himself in the blanket, consequently moving closer to Calum.

"But you're the guest," Calum argues, fighting back a yawn as he watches Ashton close his eyes for a moment.

"It's your apartment," Ashton says sleepily. "We could sleep in the same bed." Ashton adds on without a thought.

Calum watches for any sign of regret or confusion on Ashton's face, but there was none, so he nods absently. "We could."

"Alright," Ashton whispers. He gets up, the blanket falling open to bare Calum's side. Ashton stretches again then heads toward the bed, plopping down on it as if he'd done it a million times before. Calum giggles as he watches.

Ashton and Calum had already been in pretty comfortable clothes before the night started, so it wasn't long before they were facing each other in Calum's bed. "Good night, Calum," Ashton speaks, his eyes sliding shut.

"Night, Ashton," Calum replies, taking a moment to look at Ashton as his breathing slowly dies out before he turns on his other side, pulling the covers up over his shoulders.

\--

Ashton looks in awe as he sees the photos hung on the wall, completing a perfect rectangle, unlike the wall in Calum's apartment. The photos are in order of when they were taken. Him sitting in front of the easel by the river, seeing Calum for the first time at the coffee shop, his disgusted expression at drinking black coffee, the sweat dripping from his face after a workout, his intense studying face, him standing in front of his doorway with the door open, him looking at the camera as if his whole soul was poured out, paintings littering the wall behind him, a picture of him asleep on Calum's shoulder, and the next day holding a pillow up to his face but not hiding the wide grin as he was still in Calum's bed. Ashton looks down at the description below the group of photos: Calum Hood, "The Art of Passion."

Ashton feels someone's arm go flush against his, and he almost pulls away before seeing it's the photographer himself standing next to him. As Ashton looks at Calum, Calum looks at his photos. "Do you like it?" he asks Ashton quietly as if he's afraid of the answer.

"I love it," Ashton replies with no hesitation, seeing Calum smile bashfully. Calum turns to look at Ashton then, their eyes meeting.

"Let's see yours," Calum whispers after a moment, turning to look around the room at all the art on the walls.

Ashton points to an area of the room, and they both make their way over, excusing themselves as they pass people. They stand in front of Ashton's painting, and he grows nervous as he watches Calum's reaction. Ashton knows the exact moment it clicks, Calum's eyes widening a little as he leans in, looking at the painting.

Ashton just painted hands, darker skin than his own, and shorter fingers. There were initials on both of the thumbs, indicating exactly whose hands they were. "Are those my--" Calum cuts himself off, looking at his own hands. They're almost a perfect match, the real ones with significantly darker tattoos.

"I always get to see them when you hold your camera up," Ashton explains himself without reason. "That's why they're shaped like that."

And then Calum realizes that they're shaped like they're holding a camera, the edges softer without it pictured. Calum looks at Ashton and finds him with the same look on his face as the time he let Calum into his apartment. Calum reaches forward and pulls Ashton into a hug, Ashton holding tightly against his waist.

When they pull back, Ashton is smiling, and Calum can't help but copy. Ashton giggles, and then Calum is pulling him back in again, but this time it's different. This time, there's a pause, and the smile slowly leaves Ashton's face as he looks at Calum. Calum has something unreadable in his eyes, and he leans his head forward slightly, his chin lifting. Ashton meets him half way, slotting their lips together softly.

It's not an especially special kiss, just a brush of the lips, really, but it's everything vulnerable and purple and pink and calm. It's everything they've found out about each other, they've gotten to know of each other. It's so them that they have to leave it at that, just a simple brush of the lips, and they're pulling away, their eyes soft.

"Can I draw you?" Ashton asks, fingers circling at Calum's lower back. "At my apartment?"

\--

Calum immediately takes his shoes off when he gets inside Ashton's door, the plastic cool against his feet. Ashton closes and locks the door behind them. He watches as Calum sheds his tux jacket, hanging it over the kitchen counter. He loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his white shirt, then rolling his sleeves up. Ashton preens at the sight.

Ashton takes off his own suit jacket, placing it on top of Calum's. He takes off his tie, then sheds his dress shirt in favor of a white t-shirt with black paint on the hem.

Ashton walks up to Calum, who is looking at one of Ashton's paintings again, and moves his fingers to Calum's tie, loosening it further until he can take it off. "I have a favor to ask for this drawing," Ashton remarks softly, his fingers trembling at the next button on Calum's shirt.

"Yes?" Calum asks, looking down, watching as Ashton slowly unbuttons the button, his dark skin showing with no undershirt on.

"How do you feel about nude models?" Ashton whispers, hiding his warm face in Calum's shoulder.

Calum takes a moment to respond, his breath caught in his throat. "How do you feel about nude artists?" he answers Ashton with a question of his own.

Ashton's breath splays over Calum's lips as he speaks, "I think I could go for it." He presses a chaste kiss to Calum's lips, his fingers unbuttoning the next button on Calum's shirt. Calum kisses him again, slipping his hands under Ashton's t-shirt and helping him out of it. Ashton goes back to unbuttoning Calum's shirt, pushing it down his arms and off his body, draping it over the jacket and tie on the counter.

"Where do you want me?" Calum asks, stepping backwards as he slips down his tux pants, putting them with the rest of his clothes.

Ashton looks over his apartment, wondering where Calum would be comfortable and where would make a good drawing. His eyes lock onto the bed, and Calum already knows what he's going to say when he looks at him. Calum nods, moving himself to the bed, unsure of how to pose.

Ashton shifts out of his own pants, piling them on to of the counter before he pulls up a stool to the corner of his bed. Calum looks up at him expectantly, and Ashton moves forward to make some readjustments.

Ashton fluffs his two pillows, placing them on the spot where he wants Calum's head. He presses a hand to Calum's shoulder, easing him to lay on the bed, his body curled on itself to hide that he's only in a black pair of boxers. Ashton picks up Calum's arm, gently placing Calum's hand next to his head, the other hand resting over his hip bone. Ashton pushes Calum's legs apart, a deep flush taking over his neck and cheeks.

"Ready?" he asks Calum, who developed a glazed look in his eyes. Ashton slips his fingers underneath the waistband of Calum's boxers.

"Yes," Calum replies, a small smile playing on his lips. Ashton takes a deep breath, slipping the boxers down Calum's thighs and over his feet, discarding them on the floor. Ashton stands up, Calum's eyes on him. He nods and slides his own boxers down, putting them next to Calum's.

Ashton leans over again, fixing Calum's legs to rest the way he wants them to. He steps back, his breath catching in his throat at the beautiful boy in front of him. Calum is looking at him, his eyes kind and a little scared, but Ashton is sure he's looking at Calum the same way.

Ashton picks up the biggest sketch pad and a pencil, turning to the first clean page. He sits on the stool, his eyes glancing over Calum's body.

He starts drawing, pencil scratching, and then he gets lost. The way Calum's body curves with his muscles and the open way he's laying, revealing himself to Ashton, and his eyes intensely watching the artist has Ashton mesmerized. It doesn't feel like any time at all when he's finished, Calum looking back at him from the paper.

Ashton gets up from his seat, noticing for the first time the soreness on his naked bottom. He turns the drawing around, watching as Calum sits up from his position to take the sketchbook in his hands. Calum's eyes wander the page, his mouth slightly dropped open as he studies himself. He turns to look at Ashton, a little bit of pain on his face.

"You're so good," he breathes out, his hand reaching up to rest on the back of Ashton's head. Ashton kisses him softly, pulling back when he starts smiling too much.

"Thank you," he tells Calum. Calum shifts a bit, sliding beneath the covers before raising them for Ashton to join him.

Ashton sidles in beside Calum, his legs immediately intertwined with Calum's, thoughtless about their closeness as he presses a short kiss to Calum's lips.

Ashton and Calum slept exactly like that, too emotionally tired with their souls and bodies on display, but that's what getting to know each other is really all about. Hours upon hours passed of small words leaving their mouths followed by their fingers tracing bare skin. It may have been uncomfortable at first, but as time passed slowly, their shy eyes meeting, they realized just how much they had bared to each other, and it was easy.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic at 6 pm and ended at 3 am. So if you've read this far, be grateful. Also tell me what you think! This was based off a fic I read on Tumblr, so it's a little similar, but I wanted to change some stuff and get more of this kind of vibe going. I'm actually really in love with this.


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